


goddamn, man child

by chalmskinn



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Episode: s04e03 Conventions Of Space And Time, F/M, Hotel Sex, Keanu Reeves appears, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex Toys, Some plot actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalmskinn/pseuds/chalmskinn
Summary: “Are you pretending to sleep?” He sits on the end of the bed, and puts his hand on her ankle, shaking her gently. His hand lingers, and she opens her eyes.Annie deals with the stress of being a (fake) married woman, after a few cocktails in the hotel bar.
Relationships: Annie Edison & Jeff Winger, Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	goddamn, man child

Annie’s back is starting to hurt from the curved, wooden back of the lounge chair she’s sitting in. She slides down the seat, the base of her skull stopping her from moving down any further. Her hair waterfalls down across the outside, and she’s not that much more comfortable really.

Also, her chin has multiplied into multiple chins, so she puts her cocktail down, and tries to tuck at least one of the three chins back into her neck. She realises that she’s pretty much manspreading too, so she lets her thighs brush against each other, and crosses her ankles, with hopes that nobody saw her panties in the brief moment she thinks they may have been exposed.

She picks the appletini back up, and takes a little sip. She smiles and makes another happy noise of approval when the sour apple hits the roof of her mouth. She balances the glass in the crook of her hip, and luxuriates in the loose, fizzy feeling in her bones and muscles. The two and a half vodka-based cocktails have worked wonders to distract her from the reason she’s been bought three cocktails to begin with. It doesn’t really matter at this point anyway. It never really mattered at all. Ultimately, she had fun.

She hears expensive loafers against the parquet floor, and starts to straighten up. A chunk of her hair gets yanked, and she jolts, a little bit of the syrupy drink spilling onto her skirt. She turns with wide eyes and an open mouth, hand steady on her drink so it doesn’t spill any more.

“Jeff!”

He breezes past her, smelling like expensive hotel hand cream, and he shrugs. “What? What did I do?” He slides into the seat opposite her, picks up his mostly full glass of scotch, and sits his ankle on his knee, which immediately starts to bounce up and down gently. He sips his drink. “You look… relaxed? Or comfortable?” His eyes glance down to the wet patch on her skirt and her crooked neck. She hadn’t realised that she’d been massaging a muscle in her neck, but she stops.

She then groans and rolls her neck, sitting up completely, and tucking her legs under her, calves cold on her backside. She puts her drink down, and rubs her hands on her cardigan covered upper arms. “I just can’t get comfortable, these chairs were so inviting to start with, but I think I was just convinced by the bar’s low lighting and the sleazy jazz music.” She stretches her arms out, “now I’m just cold with a stiff back. Can a girl ever win?”

His mouth curves into a smirk, and he knocks back a slug of his drink. “If that was all it took to convince you that you were having a good time, I’d have stopped wearing $200 cologne a while back. Just a Coltrane album, and a few bust lights in the study room.” She bites her bottom lip, and giggles, hiding behind her martini glass. “I’d be saving stacks in aftershave, Annie.” Her looks into her eyes, a serious face on. “Stacks. Cold hard cash.”

She rubs her right index finger against her lip, and lets her teeth graze it. The finger rests on her bottom lip. “You don’t owe me or Chanel anything.” She swaps her glass from her left hand to her right, and puts her left elbow on the hard wooden chair, placing her cheek into her palm. “Or is it Armani now?” She pouts in a way she thinks is pretty subtle, but knows that it’ll also draw his attention to her lips. “I haven’t been keeping up on your cologne buying pattern, I’ll admit. Fill me in?”

His eyes drop from her pout, to her legs, where her right thigh is fully on show, the start of the curve of her ass, and maybe the lace of her underwear. If her panties are on show then he’s already seen them, so she doesn’t do anything to rectify the situation this time. This isn’t an embarrassing accident this time. This could work in her favour because it’s Jeff. Not just a chair, a bored bartender, or some random  _ Inspector Spacetime _ fan with a weird full body tattoo (an encounter that’ll stick for too long).

“It’s been Tom Ford for three months now. You must have noticed.” He raises his eyebrow, and moves his drink away from his mouth. “Surely, you’ve noticed.” He puts his drink on the table. “I sent a group message.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. “Both you and Shirley responded with something like ‘that’s nice!’ or ‘can’t wait to smell!’” He closes one eye and continues, “Even Britta noticed, Annie. And she barely notices the change in weather.”

It’s her turn to shrug, even though she recalls Britta remarking that Jeff had been smelling like Pierce’s father’s wig, which was definitely incorrect, though she wouldn’t remind him, or tell him that Britta had been wrong. “You must be making a lot of VIB Rouge points with all this cologne you’ve been buying.” She sips at her drink, and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, scraping her teeth against it again, so that her lips turn a rosier red. “I’ve been looking for a new lipstick, so when you come to your next freebie and you’re uninspired, then just pick me out something.” She pouts, and then crooks her head. “Good idea, don’t you think?” She smiles.

Maybe the drinks have made her a little too confident. She bounces up against her heels, and straightens up, facing Jeff directly. He picks up his drink again. He looks like he needs to do something with his hands, and with his eyes. They trail up from the dip in her dress, up to her eyes. He brings his glass to his lips, and lowers it again, his eyes not dropping from hers once. “A deep red would look maybe look okay.”

She’s taller than him right now. She confidently finishes her drink, and slides it onto the table, accidentally (but totally not) pushing her cleavage together while she does it. “I could work with that. Vampy. Sexy.” She giggles. She reaches her hand out to his glass, and he passes it to her without complaint, his eyelids a little heavier than they were before. Her hand tips it so very slightly to her lips, and she takes the tiniest little drink, before handing it back. Her tongue and her lips are very slightly numb. She licks away any remaining scotch from her mouth, and uncurls her legs from under her, crossing them over at the knee.

“I think I’m going to go and take a bath to soothe my aching back, if you don’t mind, Mr Winger. I’m sure you’ll easily be able to find some company here for a little while. Set your alarm for 8am tomorrow, I’ll call your room when I’m coming down for breakfast.” She winks, and hops up, his eyes gazing at her soft and pale upper thighs when her skirt raises a little bit. “Good night, Jeff. Have a lovely evening.” She crouches down to his level, and places a damp kiss on his cheek. His eyes are caught in her cleavage, and she’s not surprised, but equally not offended.

She leaves before she hears him mumble out a soft and low “goodnight, Mrs Winger”, and she waves at the lobby staff as she makes her way to the elevators. The youngish concierge from when they checked in is back on shift, and she blows him a kiss, which he catches and brings to his heart, making her giggle, clasp her hands, and squeeze her shoulders together. The elevator door closes, and she turns around to face herself in the mirror.

When she blinks, she has a brief image of Jeff emerging from the corner of the mirror and dark wood panelled elevator, wrapping his arms around her, and burying his nose in her silky brown hair. But she turns back to the walnut elevator doors, and that’s gone.

She’s alone, and that’s okay.

Truly.

She steps off at the floor her room is on, and walks to her door. She sees multiple ‘Do Not Disturbs’ on the doors along the corridor, and decides that she deserves to put one of those signs on her door (even though she plans on getting up at 8am, and leaving at 9am, but it’s the principle more than anything).

She wonders what everyone else behind these doors is doing. How many people in this hotel are here for the convention? Is anything weird going on because of that? Blorgon roleplay? Impending divorces? Excessive mini bar purchases? Fake marriages? It’s probably a no to most of those ideas on this floor though. Maybe on other floors.

She hadn’t really thought about it until Britta sent a video to the group chat, but it had been suspicious when the Winger booking had received upgrades to suites as soon as Jeff appeared at the front desk. Once she’d viewed the video, spoken to Jeff and a few others around the bar, then she understood why she’d been put in the most luxe hotel room she’d ever seen, and had her bags brought up for her. No cockroaches and a working shower was the dream really, so this must be heaven. She’d thought earlier that it’d be a good idea to pretend to be married to a man who looks like British C-lister more often.

The room isn’t too far from the elevators, but it’s on one of the sides of the building, so the windows could offer a better view than the carpark or the smoking area. She slides the key card into the slot, and waits patiently for the green light of approval.

As soon as she gets into the room, she drops her cardigan to the floor, takes off her shoes, and goes into the bathroom to turn the taps on for her long bath. She pours the complimentary bubbles into the running water, and removes the rest of her outfit, remembering that she has a complimentary robe hanging on the wall next to the shower. She pulls the soft, towelling robe over her shoulders, and ties a loose knot around her waist.

Her clothes need to hang quickly so they don’t develop any creases, so she follows the path that she came in along, picking up the discarded pieces of her outfit as she goes, hanging the dress and the cardigan, putting her pants and socks in a linen bag she’d brought with her, and laying her bra out atop her suitcase to avoid any misshaping.

By the time she’s done all of her tidying, her bath is at a decent enough level for her to climb in, and let the water continue to run against her hip. The taps being in the centre of the tub is convenient - she doesn’t need to stretch her toes out to try and adjust the temperature, which is always a struggle that although very small, is still very annoying.

The temperature reaches scorching, and she lets her head lean back, closing her eyes and drifting. Her mind is abuzz, but whenever she notices herself focussing on one thing (or one person), she fills her subconscious with thousands of other ideas, memories, and thoughts that can distract her. At one point, she’s sure she hears soft knocking against her door, but she convinces herself that it’s just one of those annoying thoughts, which she quickly subverts from, and goes back to thinking about the monkey living in the vents.

Soon enough (a good 45 minutes), her skin is pink, her head is a little dizzy, and she can no longer feel the pain in her back, which was all she had really wanted to achieve this evening. She drags herself out of the bath, and feels all of the blood rush to her feet, and a wave of nausea rushes over her. She slowly pulls herself to the California king bed on the other side of the other room, and flops onto the cool Egyptian cotton sheets, and feels that nausea subside, and her pounding heart calm down to a pace so subtle she no longer notices it.

The zen feeling that comes with the loss of nausea and the loss of the threat of potential heat stroke is blissful, and she just lets herself bask in that for a few minutes.

Then she checks her phone. She has two missed calls from Jeff. No messages or voicemails though, so it mustn’t have been pressing.

She’s feeling too chilled out to call him back right now, so she just turns on the large flat screen television across from her, and flips through channels until she settles on some Keanu Reeves film that she’s probably pretended she’s properly seen just so Abed would stop talking about it at her.

Fifteen minutes tick away quickly, and she realises that she doesn’t have much of a grasp on what’s actually happening in the film. Sandra Bullock’s there, and they’re on a bus, but Annie’s not really convinced.

She rolls out of bed, and crawls the short distance to her suitcase, unzipping it, and pulling out her makeup bag. She ties back her hair into a high ponytail, and then cleanses her face twice. She rubs in her serum, and decides that she can make up for her lack of dedication in her evening routine tomorrow morning. She pulls on a thin, pink jersey night dress, adjusting the spaghetti straps so they didn’t fall off of her shoulders.

She bites her lip, and looks up at the television to see that ads are playing. She stands up and draws the curtains as close together as they’ll go, and rushes to put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ on the door handle outside of her room. She then hurries back to her suitcase, and drops down to the floor.

There’s another zip on her suitcase that she only recently discovered. She unzips that, and pulls out a decently sized pink vibrator. Her cheeks flush in anticipation, having barely had the chance to use it since moving away from her dingy old apartment above  _ Dildopolis _ , which surprisingly enough was indeed where she had purchased it from.

She throws the vibrator towards the bed, and tightens her ponytail so that the hairband is as high up on her scalp as she can get it. She turns the volume up on the television, and turns on the vibrator. She pushes the skirt of her night dress up around her stomach, and trails the pink toy from her belly button down to her pubic bone where she lets it sit for a second, adjusting herself to a distantly familiar sensation.

Her fingers press against the button adjusting the speed, and she finds one that works for her, a steady pulse, and lowers the rounded tip down to her clit, and she stops moving, just indulging in the sensation. Her free hand moves up the skirt of her night dress, and massages her breast, her thumb and index finger rolling her nipple against one another. She lets out a breathy sigh when she presses the toy firm against herself, and begins to slowly circle it, bringing her closer to the finish she wants.

Her mind is clear from anything other than the vibrations against her clit, and that’s how it should be. Until it’s not.

The phone is ringing again. She’d remembered to put it in silent mode, so it’s just vibrating against the pillow beside her. After one buzz from her phone, the caller ID pops up, and a candid picture of Jeff appears, his head in his hand, face looking down to his phone, his excessive muscles looking delightful under a grey long sleeve, and then, she’s coming with a small screech, that then turns into a low and drawn out moan.

The phone rings twice more, but she doesn’t move to answer it.

The hand she’d have used to answer the phone has moved from her nipple, down to where she was pushing two fingers into her wet opening. She adjusts the speed on the vibrator to slow and constant, and places her attentions in stretching herself enough so that she can put the toy inside her, and let it rumble against her g-spot until she forgets where she is, why she’s here, and why she’s in such a huge bed and huge room alone. She presses the button to speed up again, and comes once more against her fingers, a little less intensely than the first time.

She’s confident that the vibrations coming from the pink toy will be too much, so she turns it off whilst she works it into herself. She has these flashing images from that horrible game of billiards she witnessed in her first year of college, and imagines herself being pressed against the billiards table, Jeff slowly entering her after everyone had left, her head rubbing against the green felt of the table, and matting at her crown.

Her eyes close, reopen, and focus on the television. Keanu Reeves is there, and that’s just fine. He does a good job as a substitute.

She finds a comfortable angle, and turns the vibrator back on, and presses through to a gentle setting, easing herself into the different, but still intense feeling.

And then there’s a pounding at her door, the heel of a fist against the solid wood, but still causing her to jump and pull the sheets up around her shoulders. “Annie! I need to come in!”

It’s Jeff. She hears him curse, and fumble against the door. Her head is spinning, and she doesn’t really know what to do. What is there to do? She sinks under the sheet, turns to the side, and pretends to sleep.

The fumbling against the door doesn’t stop. She hears a familiar beep from the door, and a click. The door is open. “Annie?” Her eyes are already shut, but she tries to shut them even more, only making them ache a little. Jeff’s steps are soft against the cream coloured carpet, but he’s coming towards her. “Are you pretending to sleep?” He sits on the end of the bed, and puts his hand on her ankle, shaking her gently. His hand lingers, and she opens her eyes.

She stays on her side, conscious of the gentle buzz against her g-spot. She doesn’t want to sit up in case the vibrations rumble through the mattress and Jeff notices that something’s not normal. She presses her lips together, “Yeah, I fell asleep during the ad break. They just go on forever.” She sighs in a way she hopes comes across as sleepy, not aroused, and Jeff shifts, sliding his shoes off his feet. “What do you need so badly that you had to wake me up?” She stretches her arms up and presses against the velvet headboard, her feet pushing against Jeff’s solid back. Her nipples are hard against her night dress, and the sensation as she stretches makes her shiver. She hopes he doesn’t notice.

“I don’t know if you noticed whilst you were having a blast being my wife, but they brought my bag up to your room.” He points to the corner of the room, and there’s a Ralph Lauren duffle bag sitting very neatly on a luggage rack. “And you weren’t asleep, Annie.” His eyebrow is raised. Annie feels her chest flush, and she racks her brain for an excuse. “Well, I don’t know, but you seemed pretty moved by this film.” She raises her eyebrow, opening her mouth softly. “The rooms are connected by this door.” He points to beside the bed, where there indeed is a door. Annie had just assumed it was a linen closet. “You screamed! Not asleep, Annie. Don’t lie to a liar.”

“Well, are you going to get your bag? I’d really like to pretend to be asleep again, if you don’t mind.” She feels the flush raise up from her chest up to her face, and the vibrations are really getting to her. Her breathing through her nose gets lighter, and her vision is getting fuzzy. She doesn’t know what to do, and she can feel Jeff watching her.

The film starts back up, and Jeff’s head flips towards the screen. Annie is clenching around the vibrator, and throws her hand out, grabbing Jeff’s hand, and squeezing it hard, coming with a shudder and a gasp. He’s oblivious, and squeezes her hand back twice. “ _ Speed _ ! Annie, I haven’t seen this since… well, I don’t remember.” Her mind is blank, and her heart rate is way too high, but she can hear Britta calling Jeff old somewhere. He turns around and he’s beaming. He looks concerned by her breathless face. “You okay, Annie? You mind if I stay until the film’s over?”

She wants him to stay. She’s got to be realistic. Her vibrator is persistent against her g-spot, and isn’t letting up. She should say no. “That’s fine. I might fall asleep though.” What a lie. Don’t lie to a liar. She knows this will give her enough anxiety to not let her sleep for a month.

Jeff gets up, and moves around to the other side of the bed, and looks at her for approval. “Can I take my pants off? Not sexual at all.” She looks blankly back at him. “Yeah, you’re right. Weird. Awkward. I’ll keep them on.” He takes his belt off though. He climbs under the covers, and sits up with his back against the headboard. He turns the lamp on beside him. “Too dark - couldn’t see my bag from here.” She nods, and she really does have to sit up, so she can pretend to focus on the movie, and pretend that she’s not chasing away orgasms.

She slowly rolls onto her back, and slowly slides up until she’s sitting. And it’s a terrible move, which doubles her over, as the toy presses even more firmly against her. A moan catches in her throat, and Jeff looks at her. “You’re really weird, Annie. You keep reacting at this film, and your reactions just don’t really make sense. I hope you’re not like this with Abed.” His hand finds hers, and he strokes her fingers. “Or did you get this from Abed? I make a point to avoid movie night so I can actually enjoy movies, but-” He looks at her, and her nipples are so hard, and she’s trying so hard not to come, and she knows that he can feel the bed vibrating. “Annie?”

She takes a shallow breath, and squeaks, “Yeah, Jeff?” His hand is on her thigh, and his fingers feel so nice, and she sighs. His hand keeps moving, up to her heat, and he stills, pressing on the vibrator. It’s more intense. “Oh my god.” She presses her hand into her face, and breathes as deeply as she can.

“Has this been happening the entire time?” His eyes are dark, and she nods sheepishly. “Have you got off?” She nods again, and his hand moves back to her thigh, his fingers tight on the skin. “How many times?”

She twists her hand in her hair, and closes her eyes. “Three times. Once while you were here.” She gasps as he pulls back the covers, and kneels between her legs. “It was an accident - I didn’t know they put your bag in here.”

“Do you want to come? Again?” He pushes up her night dress, and palms at her left breast. The smoothness of the heel of his palm against her nipples makes her drop her hands, and nod desperately. Her hand grasps onto his, and he squeezes her tit, and she groans. “I’ve dreamt about doing that for years, and I shouldn’t have waited.” He leans forward, and licks at the nipple he’d just palmed, teeth grazing, and pulling at the cherry coloured nub. Annie thrusts up at his thigh, and it’s magic when her clit presses against his leg.

She’ll be so ashamed of this behaviour later, but it’s too much. Jeff’s right hand slides down her body, and his long fingers circle her clit, slightly too hard, but she works with it, and she moves her hips in the same pattern his fingers move. His lips detach from her breast, and he moves up to kiss her. Softly, and then so dirty, he bites her lip, and she sucks on the tip of his tongue. He’s hard against her thigh, rocking gently, and his fingers feel so good, and the vibrations against her g-spot are still as relentless as ever, and his mouth tastes of scotch, and finally, she comes. 

His fingers lighten up a little as she moans, and he mouths at her neck, and her breath is so ragged. This would normally knock her out, but she can’t let that happen right now. She reaches down, and pulls Jeff’s hand off of her, and places it back on her chest. She turns the toy off, and pulls her skirt down. Her knees come around to frame Jeff’s legs, and he rolls into where Annie was. Now she kneels between his legs, and he undoes his fly, and shimmies down his pants.

Annie is overwhelmed. She can’t go down on him yet. That’s too far. So she takes him in her hand, and moves her wrist at a speed that he seems to appreciate. He’s fixated on her, and the way her chest moves whilst she touches him. She can tell he’s looking at her, and she blushes, squeezing a little harder. He grunts at that, so she does it again, and his hips thrust off the bed. 

She leans forward, and thinks about the rash decision she’d made about a minute ago. She bites her lip, and then licks across the tip of his cock. He groans lowly, and utters out a quiet “fuck”, so she does it again, and again, and again, whilst squeezing at the base of his cock. He cups her face in his hand, and she feels like he’s pushing her away, but his thrusting into her hand is getting faster. “I’m gonna come - don’t wanna come in your mouth yet.” She licks at him once more, “It’s rude-” And although she has pulled back, he comes all over her chest, barely missing her face, and there’s some in her hair, but she doesn’t mind. He’s twitching, and his eyes are closed, and suddenly Annie’s so cold. 

He sits up, and leans forward, kissing Annie’s lips gently and softly. “I came on Annie’s boobs.” He laughs. “Jeez, what a dream.” She blushes, and smacks him. His hand reaches down, and his thumb grazes her clit. She jolts, and he kisses her again, gently pulling the vibrator out of her. “So wet.” He throws the vibrator to the floor, and kisses her again. “You need to come again?” She shakes her head, and wraps her arms around his neck, and he lowers them down.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why? That was so hot.”

“You know why. So embarrassing.” She speaks into his neck, and his hand cups her ass, and squeezes.

He chuckles, “I’m not gonna tell anyone at breakfast, don’t worry.” He looks at his watch, “So, Keanu Reeves, huh? Thought it was Zac Efron for you.”

“Jeff! Shut up!” She rolls onto her back, and smacks him.

“You should clean up, you’ll stick to the sheets.” He knows he’s being rude, and she smacks him again. “I’m sorry! But it’s true!” She kisses his neck, and gets out of bed, pulling her night dress into the right position, and heads towards the bathroom to get a flannel.

She waits for the tap to warm up, and looks at herself in the mirror. She smirks at herself, and wipes her chest.

She looks out of the bathroom with the flannel in her hand, and Jeff’s asleep. Still in his t-shirt, but she’ll let him stay like that. 

She wonders what time he’ll leave at. She hopes he won’t leave, but she doesn’t know that. She knows he’d do a great job of pretending like nothing had happened at breakfast tomorrow. He’s a fantastic liar. But she knows that if she looks at him deep in the eye, he’ll show everything.

She drops the flannel on the bathroom floor, and turns off the television. She makes a note on the paper beside her bed to call Jeff at 9am. She crawls into bed, and puts her head on Jeff’s shoulder - he smells like Tom Ford, just like he said.

She’ll take this for now, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow. It’ll be easier that way.

**Author's Note:**

> i've binge watched community like 3 times since lockdown began lol (so like march?), and started writing this in august, but u know what, might as well finish it love.
> 
> i'd originally planned on doing a series of these inspired by lana del rey's nfr album, but i always say that i might do a series and then i never do, despite my best intentions. maybe i'll make a change this time around.
> 
> hope this was okay, it's the first time i've written anything other than marvel fic, and the first time i've written in years.
> 
> thanks for reading xxx


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